


Butterbile and the Cacao Comfort Zone

by Byacolate, mywordsflyup



Series: Salted Caramel [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Height Differences, M/M, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 16:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Biceps and tiptoes and farm boys, oh my.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterbile and the Cacao Comfort Zone

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this art](http://kidneypunches.tumblr.com/post/136486476747/ok-but-did-u-realize-that-carver-and-dorian-were) by the phenomenal kidneypunches, mywordsflyup suggested to byacolate one earth-shattering day, "Okay, but what if Carver/Felix." Life has never been the same since.
> 
> Based on (and tweaked) the prompt from [this post](http://gayyyybriel-the-archangel.tumblr.com/post/118782078294/16-domesti-cute-au-ideas): "We meet in a supermarket and I can’t reach the best brand of gummy worms on the top shelf and you offer to help, I see your tummy from under your shirt- oh my god that’s hot."

“You look lost.”

 

Concentration snapped, Felix falls from his precarious tiptoe with a grunt. He glances up from the shelf. And up.

 

The man before him looks remarkably hassled for having approached him first.

 

“Ah. Maybe.” He looks back down at the list in his hand. Blue and silver stripes catch his eye, tucked under the man’s arm. The same colors he’s seen adorning the staff. He’s not wearing the uniform, though; just a black undershirt and a mildly peeved expression. “Sorry, are you an employee?”

 

“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate, and the silence stretches between them.

 

Well. Maybe this is what Dorian means when he bemoans ‘southern charms’.

 

“Right. Well, I can see you’re on your way out. I don’t mean to trouble you.”

 

“Yeah, but _someone’ll_ be troubled when you go and knock half the shelf off, jumping for sh… things like that. Usually best to avoid it.” With a heavy sigh despite his words, he scans the higher shelves. “What’d you want?”

 

“Ah. Well." Felix considers his options. If he uses the proper pronunciation he risks sounding like a pompous ass, but if he says it like the Fereldans do he’ll feel ever sillier. He made that mistake in a restaurant on his first night - which only earned him the waiter’s disfavor and Dorian’s laughter. “The green box. With the little… smiley sun.”

 

The man’s peeved expression doesn’t change. Felix decides to take that as a good sign; at least he hasn't made it _worse_.

 

Another sigh follows as the man spots the box. It somehow manages to sound even heavier than the one before. In his defense, the box is on the topmost shelf. In Felix’s defense, they really should offer a ladder for people who don’t happen to be built like a Fereldan Forder.

 

“Alright, hold this,” the man says and unceremoniously dumps his bundled up uniform into Felix’ arms.

 

“Oh, right.” Felix instinctively takes a step back.

 

The long stretch of his body reminds Felix that he really is very tall, which is a stroke of luck given that he’s also prone to thoughtfulness. Not… a particularly _genteel_ thoughtfulness, but the gesture is not lost to Felix amidst the man’s churlishness.

 

It’s while he’s contenting himself with this convenience that Felix notices that the man’s form-fitting undershirt has stretched up along with him.

 

An intimate sliver of skin reveals itself - taut with muscle, the juts of his hips disappearing too readily into his reasonably worn trousers. Felix quietly chastises himself for eyeing up the stranger who’s gone out of his way to be helpful, and instead notices the flex of his _enormous_ biceps.

 

Honestly, how he’d missed them before is beyond Felix. He figures he probably couldn’t touch fingers if he circled both hands around one. When he tells him, Dorian’s sure to run errands with him next time.

 

It only takes a beat or two for the man to take what he’s looking for.

 

“There,” he says, dropping the box into Felix’s basket.

 

Felix considers for one mischievous moment telling him he’d actually wanted two boxes. Dorian would’ve.

 

Instead, he smiles. “Thank you kindly for your help, Messere…”

 

The man blinks, surprised. It’s the first expression he’s worn free of poorly-concealed irritation.

 

“Um. Carver.” His brow furrows. “It’s… it’s on the name tag.”

 

Felix keeps smiling to mask his confusion.

 

“You aren’t wearing a name tag.”

 

“Oh.” He looks down his own chest and then to the uniform that’s still in Felix’ arms. To Felix's dismay, he also tugs his undershirt back down. “Right. Anyway, it’s Carver. Without the…” He makes an irritated gesture. “ _Messere_.” The expression on his face may be embarrassment or something close to it. It’s really difficult to tell.

 

“I’m Felix.” It’s probably odd to introduce himself to one of the supermarket employees, but he only thinks of it after the words are out of his mouth. The silence that follows is punishment enough. “Thanks again,” he says and pushes the uniform back into Carver’s hands, ready to berate himself on the walk back home.

 

“What are those anyway?”

 

Felix follows Carver’s gaze to the box in his basket and then look back up at his face. It’s definitely something like embarrassment now. At least, that's what the two red blotches darkening Carver’s cheeks tell him.

 

“They’re Tevene,” he says quickly. “These little nut things with, um, chocolate and chili? It’s difficult to explain. You’ve never had them?”

 

Carver shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest, which only serves to make his biceps bulge, and brings his thick arms to the forefront of Felix's vision. Which is… not distracting at all. “High up on the shelf usually means foreign and probably expensive.”

 

“Oh.” So now he managed to make himself look like a pompous ass after all. Great. “They are pretty spicy.”

 

And just like that, the irritation is back. “You think I can’t handle it?”

 

Wonderful. This is going swimmingly.

 

“Ehm,” he says smartly, not at all at a loss for words. The man - Carver - flushes further and takes a small step back. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand.

 

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “It’s been a long day. You need anything else from the top?”

 

Felix shakes his head. “No, thank you,” and Carver nods.

 

“Right. Right. Well. Enjoy your… spicy chocolate nuts,” he says, and then lays a hand over his forehead with a little groan as he steps around Felix down the aisle.

 

“You should try them sometime,” Felix calls after him, as a forethought. Carver snorts and doesn’t turn back, but lifts a hand in response.

 

He’s got a very nice back as well. It’s almost enough to distract Felix from the tailored fit of his trousers.

 

Felix has been spending far too much time with Dorian.

 

There are only a few items left on his list, mostly spices that Dorian inexplicably doesn’t have in his cabinet, some vegetables, a few Orlesian pastries. There is also a last addition at the bottom of the list in Dorian’s neat handwriting. Felix rolls his eyes and doesn’t even try to reach the wine on the top rack. Dorian will just have to content himself with something cheaper and easier to reach.

 

It’s nearly closing time when he finally makes his way to the checkout, and only one seems to still be open. Felix stops dead in his tracks when he spots Carver who is draping his ridiculously long body over the counter. He’s resting his forehead against the shoulder of the pretty cashier whose laughter carries all the way over to Felix who just hopes his hasty retreat behind the shelves goes unnoticed.

 

It’s silly, of course. He'll have to pay at some point. And Carver doesn’t seem too intent on leaving any time soon. It’s not like Felix is hiding. Or, Maker forbid, lurking. He’s just… observing. From behind the laundry detergent and fabric softener. Completely normal.

 

The pretty cashier pats Carver’s head and chatters on and on, quite amicably, and Felix finally composes himself as a man of the Alexius line is meant to.

 

It’s just a man. A man he managed to embarrass himself in front of at least half a dozen times in the space of a minute. It’s not like he stole a rival’s valuable theory, or slept with someone’s wife.

 

Carver jerks up when the woman - _Bethany_ , reads her name tag - greets Felix at his approach. He looks just as startled to see Felix as Felix pretends not to be.

 

“Nice night,” Bethany says, and despite the hour and the menial labor, her good mood sounds genuine.

 

“Yes,” Felix agrees, his own smile warming a bit in relief. Then, as she starts to ring up his purchases, she pauses with her hands full.

 

Bethany takes a quick look at Carver before she turns back to Felix, her eyes sparkling. “Spicy nuts!”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Carver grumbles, rubbing his own temples.

 

Bethany laughs. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Don’t call him _that!”_

 

“Not to his face, you mean?”

 

Carver gapes. “Maker’s breath, Bethany!”

 

“What?” She rings up Felix’s - in truth, Dorian’s - snacks with a little grin. “They’re good though, aren’t they?” she says, this time directing her words to Felix. She continues ringing up his purchases, the smile on her face suspiciously innocent. “I’m not surprised that Carver hasn’t tried them. They’re a bit spicy for him.” She ignores Carver’s huffed protest and winks at Felix as if they weren’t complete strangers in a supermarket. “He once cried the first and only time our mother tried switching to a foreign brand of black pepper.”

 

“I did not _cry!”_

 

“Well, you _whined_.”

 

Felix cannot help but smile, even when Carver’s face heats up bright red. He takes pity though, considering the man really had gone out of his way to help him. “Have you tried any Qunari cuisine? It’s pure fire. It’s brought me to tears on several occasions.”

 

Carver blinks, obviously startled out of his embarrassment. Bethany bursts into laughter, quite musical despite the mischief behind it. “Oh, stop!” she says, wiping a tear as the receipt prints from an ancient machine. “You’ve shaved a year off his life from imagining it alone.”

 

“You’re wretched,” Carver tells her, and despite his scowl, moves forward to pack Felix’s things away in a bag. When Felix moves to intercept, Carver waves him away impatiently.

 

“You’re off the clock,” Felix says sheepishly.

 

“Yeah, well,” Carver mutters, trailing off. Bethany actually sniggers and even manages to keep her grin under the scrutiny of Carver’s glare.

 

“So,” she says and leans across the counter to bat her eyelashes at him. “Are you here by car? Carver can help you fit all that in the back.”

 

Carver almost drops the bottle of wine.

 

She ignores him, just like she ignores Felix’s heated face and the way his mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out. “He is very strong,” she says and winks. “That’s why the keep him in the back, lifting the heavy things.”

 

“That’s not why,” Carver says, pointedly not looking at either of them.

 

“No, sadly, not.” Bethany sighs. “But that’s what we tell people.”

 

“I don’t have a car,” Felix says, about twenty seconds too late. “I’m staying at a friends place right around the corner. Um, Redcliffe Road?”

 

He didn’t think it was possible but Bethany’s smile actually grows wider. “What a coincidence. That’s right on Carver’s way home.” She clasps her hands. “If you ask nicely, he might even carry your bags.”

 

“Bethany,” Carver warns.

 

As he hands over his card, Felix is quick to laugh, acknowledge it as a joke and nothing more. “It’s quite alright. I couldn’t trouble you further.”

 

But once she hands it back with the receipt and Felix turns to take his bags, Carver’s got them all in his arms, looking very put-upon.

 

“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin over his shoulder. “Redcliffe Road.”

 

“See you around!” Bethany calls cheerfully, waving them both off. “Enjoy your spicy nuts!”

 

“Maker,” Carver breathes, emphatically.

 

Felix has no idea where his physical presence will be least offensive, so with some awkwardness, he brings himself up to Carver’s side.

 

“Honestly,” he says, once they’re out the door into the warm spring air, “I can take them.”

 

“Of course you _can_ ,” Carver says with a little snort.

 

“Then -”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Felix lets out a breath of laughter. “Forgive me if I’ve been given the impression that that might not be entirely true.”

 

Carver doesn’t respond to that, not at first.

 

The street lights are lit now, the sun a faintly colored memory on the horizon. Fields stretch on between houses and walking paths and streets, and if Felix squints, he can see the first lightning bugs of the evening rising to dance.

 

The bags shift in Carver’s grip once they reach the sidewalk.

 

“This is… weird, isn’t it?” Carver says, cautiously. Like he isn't actually sure.

 

“Definitely,” Felix agrees. Carver lets out a short little laugh.

 

"Yeah. Sorry."

 

"No, you mustn't apologize," Felix says, holding his hands behind his back. "All you've done this evening is help me."

 

“I apologize for Bethany, then. You can’t deflect that - she’s the worst.”

 

“No,” Felix says quickly. “No, she’s very nice.”

 

“She’s a terror.”

 

Felix is startled into laughter. “But a very charming one.”

 

“That’s what they tell me.” They walk in silence for a bit, the streets already eerily deserted. Back in Minrathous they would still be filled with people, busy getting ready for the night. But a lot of things would be different in Minrathous. There would be no fields, for one. Or lightning bugs. Or handsome men carrying home his groceries.

 

“She wants me to get out more,” Carver says suddenly, his eyes straight ahead and his tone suggesting utter disdain. “Meet people.”

 

“That… doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world?” Felix tries carefully.

 

Carver groans. “It’s not. Until she ambushes the first cute guy she sees and coerces him into letting me carry his bags.” He turns to Felix, an almost conspiratorial look on his face. “She’s good at that, you know? It’s those big eyes. They hide the deviousness.”

 

“Oh?” Felix’ thoughts stutter - still stuck on “cute”.

 

“Siblings aren’t supposed to meddle this much, are they?” he asks, kicking a stone on the pavement. “A little, maybe. Mostly just to be annoying. But not… _actively_.”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Felix says, apologetically.

 

“You lucky bastard.”

 

A laugh of surprise stutters out of Felix’s chest. He can’t remember the last time anyone called him a bastard. Not to his face, anyway. But Carver’s tone is light, and Felix feels lighter as well. “She’s your sister, then? Bethany.”

 

“My twin,” Carver sighs. And then he grins. “ _Younger_ twin.”

 

Felix can’t imagine the age difference between twins matters very much at all, but the look on Carver’s face and spring in his step is charming enough to take it at face value.

 

“Is she very much younger?” he asks, smiling to himself.

 

“Oh, ages. Three and a half hours. That’s nearly four.”

 

“Clearly, that difference gave you more time to grow.”

 

Carver’s laugh isn’t a snort or a scoff - it’s loud, and free, and startles Felix nearly out of his boots. It sounds a lot like Bethany’s, but Felix opts to keep that to himself.

 

“I personally blame those two years when she decided to become a vegetarian. Didn’t last long, but she’s been tiny ever since.”

 

Felix isn’t sure if that is how it works, but he also decides to keep that to himself.

 

“It served her well though,” Carver says and manages to shrug despite the weight of the bags. “People still call her adorable.” He says it like it’s the worst kind of insult and Felix finds himself laughing again.

 

“It’s not the first word that comes to mind,” he says.

 

“Aha!” Carver couldn’t sound more triumphant if he tried. “That’s because you’ve seen her scheming ways. Finally someone on my side!”

 

Felix grins to himself, a bit delighted by Carver’s little outburst. He doesn’t know when they left the weirdness behind but this feels almost comfortable. If he manages to ignore Bethany’s obvious setup. Or how distracting Carver’s biceps still are. Or the fact that Redcliffe Road is coming up just behind the next corner. And with it, Dorian’s house. And with _that_ , the inevitable goodbye.

 

“So,” he starts, tipping his head to look up at the stars, “this is on your way home, is it? Do you live nearby?”

 

“Near enough,” Carver says, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Bethany and I share a flat a couple miles up the road.”

 

“That’s quite a walk.”

 

“Preferable to the bus,” Carver insists, wrinkling his nose. “Bethany doesn’t think so. I prefer the exercise and the…” He makes a noise. “Fewer people.”

 

“Ah, well.”

 

“Not you though,” Carver says, and then hastily amends, “I mean, not… you’re not like a… a pack of school children, or… or a granny, or… Shit.”

 

Felix laughs, and nudges Carver’s elbow if only to show it isn’t at his expense. “I appreciate that.”

 

Carver coughs. “You… make evening shopping trips often? Only I haven’t seen you around before.”

 

“I didn’t arrive until just recently,” Felix tells him as they turn the corner onto Redcliffe Road. “I’m staying with a friend. He’s the one who likes the nuts.”

 

“You don’t like them?” Carver asks, and his voice breaking midway through the question.

 

“Oh, yes,” Felix amends. “Very much. I didn’t think I’d find them here, is all.”

 

Carver grunts, facing forward with single-minded determination and red cheeks that glow in the streetlight. “You’d be surprised what you can find in Ferelden.”

 

“Oh, I’m starting to see that,” Felix says, feeling almost a little wicked.

 

If anything, Carver’s blush deepens. “I thought someone from Tevinter would be used to a little bit more… More of everything, really.”

 

“There are a lot of things that Tevinter is lacking,” Felix laughs. “But don’t tell Dorian I told you that without an essay on exactly which aspects I mean.”

 

“Dorian?”

 

“Um, my friend. The one I’m staying with.” He shouldn’t feel the need to clarify but it’s there, slightly nagging at the of his mind. “He’s the closest thing I have to a brother, I suppose. Actually, I think he would get along great with your sister. They're both very clever, and sure of it.”

 

“A terrifying thought,” Carver says but it comes with a pleased little smile. “So are you… just here for a visit, or for longer?” It sounds so hopeful and so awkward at the same time that it makes something in Felix’ chest flutter. Actually flutter.

 

“I… haven’t really planned that far ahead,” Felix admits, the thought still new and wild. There’s no reason to dwell on returning to his father and their estate yet, is there? Not now. Not with this grumpy, but helpful and handsome man, walking him home of his own volition. It’s a breath of fresh air in more ways than one to be so far from home, and so near to a relative stranger. “I’m starting to appreciate the south. I’ve never had the opportunity before.”

 

“Well, most everything’s south to you, isn’t it?” Carver asks, turning up the drive to Dorian’s bungalow at Felix’s gesture.

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

“Oh, well,” Carver scoffs, “then that includes Orlais. No wonder you thought the south was shit.”

 

“I never said the south was shit,” Felix laughs, rummaging in his pockets for the key.

 

“Yeah, well, that part is. Trust me. Ferelden’s great, if you give it a chance.” Carver grins at him in the dim light of the doorstep. “I’d… if you like, I could show you sometime.”

 

“Show me what, exactly,” Felix asks with his own little smile, taking the bags from Carver’s arms. Carver’s gaze darts away.

 

“Y’know… around? The sights? Ferelden things,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. Felix’s smile widens, and his laugh resonates with the warmth he feels in his chest.

 

“I’d like to see whatever Ferelden things you have to offer,” he says. Carver coughs, ducking his head.

 

He’s flirting. Maker, he’s actually flirting. And well enough to make his Fereldan giant flustered. Dorian would be so proud. Once he got over the initial shock, that is. The thought alone is enough to make Felix smile.

 

“So…” Carver rubs the back of his neck again. “I should probably give you my number? If you want?”

 

“I think that would be helpful.” Felix turns a bit. “You could put in my phone yourself. It’s in my pocket. My hands are a bit full at the moment…””

 

Carver looks at him like he's suggested Carver should take him right there and then on the porch, all wide eyes and disbelief.

 

“In my pocket?” Felix offers again and sticks out his hip a bit for emphasis.

 

Carver swallows visibly. “Yeah, sure.” He takes a step towards him, very tall and very broad-shouldered and very much avoiding eye contact.

 

Tentatively, Carver‘s hand slides over Felix‘s front left pocket. Fully intending to sound apologetic and coming up with cheek instead, Felix tells him, “Not that one.”

 

Carver jerks back like his hand caught fire. “Right!”

 

Felix considers setting all his purchases down to fish it out himself, out of kindness. Instead, “Back pocket,” he cheerfully informs him.

 

With brutal efficiency, Carver steps closer again and slides his hand into one of Felix‘s back pockets. His jeans are rather tight, and they make it very easy for Felix to feel exactly how big Carver‘s hands are as they slip over his ass. Carver tugs out the phone, flushed and triumphant.

 

“Good,” Felix says but it comes out sounding more like a croak. Endlessly attractive. He clears his throat which only seems to remind Carver how close he is still standing. Felix tries not to feel disappointed when he steps back, phone in hand.

 

Carver blinks at him for a moment before fixing his eyes on the phone. “No passcode,” he observes.

 

“I’m a very trusting person,” Felix says as if it isn’t obvious by the fact that he has known this man for less than an hour and already given him his address, his phone, and a feel of his ass.

 

“You have a cat?” Carver says, nose wrinkling. He’s no doubt noticed that Felix’s lock screen and background both.

 

“No,” he admits. “It’s my friend’s.”

 

Carver gives him a funny look. “Your lock screen is your friend’s cat?”

 

Felix shrugs. “I like cats. He’s very soothing to look at.”

 

“Right.” Carver puts a number into his phone with a few little nods. “First thing we’ll have to do is turn you into a dog person.”

 

“That… might just be the most Fereldan thing you have said all evening,” Felix says. “I should keep a checklist. Hates spicy food. Hates Orlesians. Hates cats…”

 

“I don’t hate cats.” Carver makes a face. “I just like dogs more.”

 

Felix grins. “Right.”

 

“Which is really just reasonable.”

 

Carver slips the phone into one of the bags rather than back into Felix's pocket. He's almost disappointed.

 

Felix struggles only a little to lift his hand with the key and finagle it into the door. “Won’t you come in?” he asks with a grunt. “You’ve gone out of your way for me today far more times than is warranted, for strangers. The least I could do is offer you a cup of tea.” He looks over his shoulder, shaking one arm laden with bags. “And some nuts.”

 

“Bit early to be offering me - no, no, I’m not going to stoop to that.” Carver takes a step back, though he looks hesitant to be doing any such thing. “I really should go, though. If I’m going to beat Bethany home, and all.”

 

“You’re certain? Not everything in the pantry is foreign.”

 

“That’s not -!” Carver sputters, quieted only by Felix’s soft laugh.

 

“I shouldn’t tease you,” he says, setting a few bags down in the hall.

 

“I... I don’t mind bit of teasing.” From the way Carver goes bright red from his neck to his hairline it’s obvious that wasn’t how it was supposed to come out.

 

Felix straightens up and leans against the door frame, putting on the most innocent smile he can muster. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Carver’s hand returns to the back of his neck. Just watching him this flustered makes Felix’ heart beat a bit faster. It’s charming, the way every emotion is so openly displayed on Carver’s handsome face. He’d be a _disaster_ at Wicked Grace.

 

“I should go,” Carver repeats. “Bethany will be insufferable otherwise. But I'll call you.”

 

Felix folds his arms but keeps his smile. “Will you?”

 

For a moment, Carver just stares at him, blinking. “Oh, right. I don’t have your number. But… you have mine.”

 

Still smiling, Felix fishes out his phone and dials the number Carver put into his contacts. He can hear Carver’s phone buzzing in the front pocket of his jeans. “There,” he says and disconnects the call. “Now you have it.”

 

“Right,” Carver says, with no gusto at all. “Right. Well.” He takes another step back, raising a hand in farewell as he retreats down the path.

 

“Be seeing you,” Felix calls, muffling a laugh at the way Carver half-trips over his own long legs.

 

“Definitely,” Carver bites out, and only then does Felix shut the door.

 

He laughs quietly to himself, tapping his forehead against the wood.

 

What a strange end to a strange evening.

 

Felix rubs his forehead against the smooth grain, staring down at the phone in his hand. He swipes his thumb over Carver's number, and smiles. Feeling whimsical, he taps the simple "Carver Hawke" and, grinning, precedes the name with a >:( face.

 

At least Bethany would laugh.

 

“Well,” comes a voice behind him, startling Felix around. Dorian leans casually against the opposite wall, eyebrows ticked up. His posture aims for casual, but the curve of his smile suggests he knows too much. “ _That_ was a cinematic display.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Butterbile 7:84
> 
> A hard liquor that is not so much served as it is brandished. Coarse and indifferent, it is to your taste, or it is not. The failing is yours if you cannot raise—or lower—to the challenge of a distiller told not to.] 
> 
> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [mywordsflyup](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com/)'s & [Byacolate's Tumblr](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).


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